


blisterfeld

by lookatallthemoresigive



Category: Birds of Prey (And the Fantabulous Emancipation of One Harley Quinn) (2020)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Cassandra Cain - Freeform, F/F, Helena Bertinelli - Freeform, Post-Canon, Renee Montoya - Freeform, The Trials and Tribulations of one Jaguar XJ-S Convertible, annoyances to lovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-31
Updated: 2021-01-31
Packaged: 2021-03-17 04:33:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,888
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29094294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lookatallthemoresigive/pseuds/lookatallthemoresigive
Summary: Don't let the skyscrapers fool you—Gotham's a small town.
Relationships: Dinah Lance/Harleen Quinzel
Comments: 3
Kudos: 18





	blisterfeld

**Author's Note:**

  * For [funnefatale](https://archiveofourown.org/users/funnefatale/gifts).



> Happy (belated) Birthday, Reen!

Look, there's no way around it. The new Black Mask Club is tacky as shit.

It looks like a 80s Vegas magician snorted a bunch of coke and then ransacked a Cheesecake Factory.

Dinah fights her way past the narrow club's crammed dance floor to the bar. The worst disco music she's ever heard is pounding in her ears. Not for the first time that night she considers turning back, but she's here on business.

When she finally pushes through the sea of humanity, Dinah's unsurprised to see Duc manning the counter. Gotham's mafiosos are known to ruthlessly clean house, but Duc's always kept his head down and his nose out of the other side of the business. Besides, Duc's mojitos are one of the few reasons the club broke even under Sionis. They nod at each other, and Duc wordlessly hands her a whiskey on the house.

"How's the new management?" Dinah asks, raising an eyebrow as she sips.

"Colorful," Duc says, and turns his attention back to impatient customers with credit cards in hand.

It takes a couple of minutes, but her man finally shows up.

Robert Booker does not look like a snitch.

For one thing, he’s a big guy, with broad shoulders and an unflappable demeanor. Definitely not like most of Dinah’s twitchy bean pole informants. Robbie’s also got a loyalty streak a mile wide. Unfortunately for Carmine Falcone, though, he's known Dinah a lot longer.

Still, Dinah can see the nervousness in his eyes.

"This is a full on reunion," Robbie says, smiling as Dinah hands him a vodka tonic.

"Well that's what we're here for, right Robbie? Reminiscing about how much you miss cleaning up spoiled Gothamite socialite puke off the floor," Dinah says.

"I'd take that over freezing my ass off at the docks. They say it might snow until _April_ ," Robbie says, grumbling into his drink.

Now they were getting somewhere.

"Yeah, Port Adams gives me the creeps. It always smells like toxic waste," Dinah says, looking at Robbie out of the corner of her eye.

"Actually—" Robbie starts.

" _Dinah!"_ A voice gleefully shrieks.

Oh no.

Dinah screws her eyes shut and knocks back the rest of her drink.

When she opens them, Robbie is nowhere to be seen. In his place is Harley Quinn, wearing a romper that is half a Renaissance painting screen-printed on silk, and half a Georgia O'Keeffe painted on corduroy, paired with bright pink heels. It is a catastrophe of an outfit, so naturally Harley looks amazing in it.

"Harley, what are you doing here?"

"You didn't get my invite?" Harley pouts. "This is my club now!"

Dinah blinks at that. "Considering you killed the previous owner, how is this your club?"

"Ah, well, bribes, forgery, ancient Gotham property laws of ownership by combat, boring stuff really," Harley says, waving her hand. "I’m so glad you finally came! Apprentice!"

Cass pops up at her elbow wearing a rainbow-colored, sparkly jumpsuit. “Champagne?” She offers, proffering up a tray.

"Kid, you legally shouldn't even be allowed in here. And I was here on business," Dinah says, lowering her voice, "until you spooked my guy away."

“Oh come on, everyone knows the Falcones control the Tricone Yards, yadda yadda. We have more important things to catch up on!” Harley says, her eyes sparkling.

"You’re right.” Dinah says. “I want my baby back."

Harley's eyes bulge out of her face. She looks rapidly between Dinah and Cass.

Dinah pinches the bridge of her nose. "My car, Harley."

“Sorry can’t hear you over the club!” Harley shouts unnecessarily. “Car, what? Your car, don’t know what happened to it, gotta go do important club managerial things, see ya!” Harley says, literally diving back into the crowd.

Dinah turns to Cass. “Is it still in one piece?”

“Hey, she treats that car better than me sometimes! She has been ranking up a lot of parking tickets though.”

Dinah takes one of the champagne flutes and chugs it.

* * *

Harley Quinn is many things, but her intel’s good. The next night, the Birds of Prey go to Tricone Yards. The illegal guns shipment is there. Falcone’s men are there. Falcone’s there. Harley’s there.

"Quinn, what the fuck are you doing here?" Renee shouts as she punches a mobster in the face.

"I went splitzies on this shipment with Carmy! It's a lot cheaper to smuggle in liquor in bulk," Harley says.

“You tell him that?” Helena says, nocking an arrow on her crossbow.

“Y’know, I hadn’t!” Harley says, as if it’s just now dawned on her this might be an issue. “Cass, write a note down- next time, inform the other party when you are going into business,” she dictates.

“Got it!” Cass says, nodding as she furiously scribbles notes behind a shipping crate currently being riddled with bullets.

“Huntress, get the kid out of here,” Renee says, looking at Harley with enough murderous intent to get her convicted in most Gotham courts.

“On it,” Helena says, providing herself cover fire as she moves towards the kid.

“Hey tough guys, c’mon, I want a real fight!” Dinah says, trying to lure them away from Helena. She bumps into Harley. Dinah does a quick calculation at the mob now converging on her and shoves Harley at them. The goons, surprised, back into each other and trip themselves. With a flurry of kicks and punches (Dinah) and fuzzy brass knuckles (Harley? Where did she even get those from?) they stay down.

"What the fuck was that for?!?" Harley says as Dinah helps her up.

"That was for jacking my car," Dinah says, smiling wide. She turns around and kicks a mook that was trying to sneak up on her.

“It was a beautiful car, Quinn,” Renee says as she knees a guy in the balls.

“But Huntress has so much money, she can buy you a new one!” Harley says, ducking and punching.

“It was my mom’s car, Harley!”

“Oh, well, she has excellent taste!”

Dinah hears a shout of rage and she rolls, missing the knife by a half-second. The man holding the knife is twice her size and pissed off, so it’s not a quick or easy takedown.

By the time she regroups with the rest of the Birds, Harley (and more importantly Dinah’s car along with her) is nowhere to be seen.

“Typical,” Dinah says.

“I’m calling this in,” Renee says, already dialing.

“Maybe I should get Cass a crossbow,” Helena muses.

* * *

A month later, the Birds find themselves on a large, poorly lit, and foggy balcony. Across from them, a dark shadow surrounded by bodies lengthens. It turns to face them.

“Uh, who the fuck are you? What are you? Are you supposed to be like a bat?” Helena asks.

“You don’t know who he is?” Dinah whispers, awed. “He’s _the_ Bat.”

“You knew about all the whereabouts of the Gotham criminal players, but didn’t know about the guy who dresses like a goddamn bat and beats them up every night?” Renee says.

“I mean, I've heard the word Bat thrown around before,” Helena says, defensively. “I just thought it was a joke!”

“Welcome to Gotham,” Renee says.

“You shouldn't be operating in my city,” the Batman growls, ignoring their whispered conversation.

Then, the worst thing that could possibly happen, happens.

Harley Quinn strolls in.

“Harley? The fuck?” Dinah says, because this night has gone off the fucking rails.

The Batman and Harley make eye contact.

“Ah, shit,” Harley whines.

“Harleen,” The Batman starts.

“Yeah yeah, you want to lock me up for my own protection, OCD savior complex stemming from significant childhood trauma, likely the death of a loved one, yadda yadda, we’ve gone through this a million times, Batsy.”

It almost looks like the Batman’s eyebrow is twitching beneath his cowl. But that’d be impossible.

“I want all of you out of my sight and away from this museum for the next two weeks,” The Batman orders, and he’s honestly so terrifying that Dinah nearly agrees to it.

“Hey, you don’t get to treat them like that,” Harley says, marching up to the Batman and poking him in the chest. “While you were out fighting a sewer cult or going into outer space or whatever sorta crazy shenanigans ya get up to, they saved my life! They saved a kids’ life! And they’re doing a lot of good around this city.”

The Birds look at each other in shock.

The Batman and Harley stare each other down, and nobody breathes.

“Stay out of this case, all of you,” The Batman says at last. He shoots off a grappling hook into a nearby building, and he’s gone before they can even stammer out a protest.

“You’re welcome,” Harley says. The Birds stare at her. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ll just be moseying along.” And so she skips over to the edge of the balcony and dives off of it.

“What was she even doing here? And where was Cass?” Helena says, once they’re able to somewhat process the ridiculous series of events that have just occurred.

The Gotham Museum of Natural History’s fire alarm goes off.

“Whatever it is, I think we’re going to be stuck with cleaning up the aftermath,” Renee says grimly.

* * *

"We're leaving the rest of this case to the Bat," Renee says, the next morning, once they’ve all showered multiple times. "We need to build up our street cred more before we step on anyone's cape."

"No complaints here," Helena says. “Huge fan of us and that dude staying out of each other's way.”

"But this was our case," Dinah protests.

"Yeah, it was. But there are missing girls, runaway kids disappearing in the Narrows, shit that always gets ignored by the cops or the Batman. Let him have this. Those kids need us more," Renee says, putting a comforting hand on Dinah’s shoulder.

“Okay,” Dinah nods.

Dinah doesn’t see why they can’t do both.

It’s just surveillance, really. The grizzled men in the Special Exhibit hall are obviously casing the museum after the botched job the night before, and she's just keeping an eye on them. She has some good leads, when she runs into Harley.

“Dinah!” Harley squeals delightedly, in her very distinctive voice. With her very distinctive pale skin.

Dinah presses Harley against a wall, one hand slapped over her mouth as she locks urgent eyes with her.

Harley tries to talk against Dinah’s hand, and this is just making them more conspicuous.

Then she notices how Harley’s gaze slips to Dinah’s lips.

Well. That’s one way to get people to overlook them.

Dinah removes her hand. Before Harley can even form a sentence, Dinah leans in and kisses her, pressing Harley further into the wall and shielding her from view. Harley practically melts into the kiss, and she doesn’t seem to mind Dinah's wandering hands, her own cupping Dinah's face with surprising gentleness. Honestly, Dinah had expected Harley to bite her tongue or spit in her mouth or something. This actually wasn't bad.

Dinah breaks the kiss, their faces still inches away. Harley's eyes are still closed, her eyelashes fluttering.

"See you around, Harley," Dinah whispers in her ear, then strolls away.

Dinah’s already turning on the engine of her beloved ‘87 Jaguar Convertible when she hears Harley’s indignantly screaming her name.

* * *

Despite her fears, Dinah’s car is perfectly intact, clean, and suspiciously undamaged. It’s a relief to not have to bum rides off Renee and Helena anymore. And there’s nothing like driving through East End with the top down, the wind in her hair. Every time she turns on the ignition, she can almost feel her mom in the passenger seat. The Batman even seems to have a bit of grudging respect for her after she helps him put the museum heist perps behind bars.

Still, Harley’s not at the club the multiple times Dinah goes.

She doesn’t crash any more of their missions.

Dinah even tries staking out Harley’s favorite bodega (information courtesy of a $50 bribe to Cass) and still no dice.

A few weeks ago, it would seem impossible that she’d ever want to _willingly_ see Harley Quinn, but now _—_

“Everything alright?” Renee says, lingering against a doorframe.

Dinah spins, using the force to deliver a vicious kick to the punching bag.

“Fine,” Dinah says, avoiding Renee’s eyes.

“Okay,” Renee says, but she clearly isn’t buying it. “I’m going to get some lunch. Heads up, avoid Grand. There’s some big heavyweight fight tonight. Lotta of traffic.”

Dinah stills. She’s seen it on the list of Gotham weekly events while flicking through a print version of the _Gazette_ during her bodega stakeout. She knows exactly where Harley is going to be tonight.

* * *

"You’ve been avoiding me," Dinah says as she takes the plush seat next to Harley.

“Gah!” Harley nearly jumps out of her “Gotham rich person being forced to buy drugs from their Midtown dealer in person” disguise. “How’d you know where to find me?”

Dinah looks around the studio. It’s filled with a sea of women chattering excitedly. On the stage, under the obnoxious floral arrangements and unnecessary Roman pillars and candles that scream fire hazard and uncomfortable looking couches, there’s a banner that reads “ **The Bachelor Reunion: Live!”**

“Because you’re a romantic at heart. You’re too smart to believe any of this shit is real, but you still want to believe that for one of them, it’ll work out. And you don’t want anyone to know that, which is why Cass isn’t here with you, pickpocketing tourists.”

“Not bad,” Harley says, looking at her with newfound respect. "You wanna know the most romantic night I ever had with Mr. J?"

Dinah wasn't expecting _that._ "Not particularly—"

"He got me flowers, took me to Yan's on the 78th floor, nicest view of the city, and held the whole staff hostage so we could have the place to ourselves. It was so dreamy," Harley swoons.

"Uh—"

"I thought maybe, he was gonna propose! Then Batsy comes crashing in, and while I'm fighting him, Joker signals on a radio and bam! He's taken out half of the bridges into the city. That whole night was just a distraction. And that was the first time since Arkham that I thought “he was using me,” but it wouldn't be the last. Dinah, you are one of the most amazing broads I know. But after Mr. J, I promised myself that if anyone kissed me as a distraction, I wouldn't go chasing after ‘em."

"Harley—" Dinah says, her stomach sinking. She wants to deny it, to say she's nothing like the Joker, but that's exactly what she was doing. God, she's an asshole.

"It's fine," Harley says, waving her off. "I did steal it from you, so fair's fair. Just want to keep things professional, is all."

Why does Harley always do this with her? They've both built barbed wire fences around themselves, but Harley always flings a side door wide open for Dinah, exposing her soft underbelly that nobody else (except maybe the kid) gets to see. Shit's unnerving.

"Well, it might not be professional,” Dinah says slowly, “but there's a crappy dive bar not far from here that has 50 cent slices and 2 for 4 shots. You in?"

Harley grins.

* * *

“This beer is terrible!” Harley says, coughing as she braces herself on her cue stick.

“But it’s cheap,” Dinah smirks, and sights down the cue ball. With one fluid stroke, she sends it colliding with the six ball, sinking it into the pocket.

“You’re good at this! Like really good,” Harley says, eyeing Dinah over her beer.

“I was a pool shark for a year until I got banned from every bar in Midtown,” Dinah says, smiling at the memory.

“Dinah Lance: the scourge of honest construction workers everywhere!”

“Stop stalling and take your damn pool shot, Quinn.”

Harley pouts but compiles. Her angle is slightly off, and the cue ball sinks into the corner pocket.

They both wince.

“Okay, move out of the way, I need to officially kick your ass at this,” Dinah says, collecting the cue ball.

Harley drapes herself against the table near the eight ball. “Make me.”

Dinah moves until she’s standing flush against her and drops the cue ball on the table. The muffled thud is loud, but not as loud as the sound of Dinah’s racing pulse. She leans over Harley and angles the cue stick. Dinah breathes in against Harley’s ear, causing Harley to gasp. Dinah breathes out, and the eight ball sinks into the pocket.

“Your ass has officially been kicked,” Dinah says, and starts to move away when Harley grabs her hips.

Dinah turns her head, and they’re looking at each other, noses almost touching.

“You win,” Harley breathes, and then they’re kissing. Dinah drops the cue stick and steps in-between Harley’s legs. Harley pulls her in closer as Dinah pushes her further into the table, deepening the kiss.

“Harley,” Dinah says when she finally breaks the kiss, her hands in Harley’s hair.

"Yeah?" Harley is running her hands up Dinah’s shirt.

"If you steal my car again, I will dump your ass off at the GCPD," Dinah says.

"I’ve made worse deals," Harley says.

Call her an optimist, but this is one deal Dinah thinks Harley won’t break.


End file.
